Night Before Christmas
by MissJayne
Summary: The team share Christmas together.  Jibbs, some Tiva and McAbby.


_I do not own 'The Night Before Christmas', I have merely borrowed and adapted for my own use. I also do not own the poem at the end – I found it during my research for this and felt it was appropriate._

_Merry Christmas! And I promise Jibbsfest will be up as soon as I get the last entry..._

**Night Before Christmas**

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house  
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;  
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,  
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;  
Jethro Gibbs was nestled all snug in his bed,  
While visions of redheads danced in his head...  
But perhaps, had he not been dreaming, he would have noticed the intruders.

* * *

Abigail Scuito loved everything about Christmas. Well, maybe not the Chipmunks songs and the addition of nutmeg to her precious Caf-Pows. But to her, Christmas was a magical time when anything could happen.

And such a holiday could never be spent alone. Not even by her boss, the esteemed Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Not that he was her boss, technically that role went to one Leon Vance, but _el jefe_ held a special place in her heart and her own version of the NCIS hierarchy.

Nevertheless, no one should spend Christmas Day on their own. Especially not an ex-marine who continued to work hard for his country, bring killers to justice and remain a gentleman at the same time. He was kind, caring, kept Tony in his place, and was good with kids. If anyone deserved company at Christmas, it was a man like him.

Not that she had come alone. Far from it. Christmas was not Christmas unless it involved family. While Gibbs no longer had much of a biological one, he had his own little group of 'children' at NCIS. Therefore, Abby had rounded them up, one by one. She had smiled sweetly at Timmy, who had immediately caved. And she had blackmailed Tony and Ziva by offering to tell the Bossman exactly how they were breaking Rule Twelve.

In detail.

Which could only result in one outcome.

They were weighed down with decorations, except for the Goth herself who had declared herself 'creative designer' for the day. The house needed decorating and Gibbs certainly wouldn't do it if left to his own devices. So she had bought mistletoe and tinsel, baubles and candy canes, a little tree for his living room and paper delights of every size, shape and color. Not to mention the food still sitting in the trunk of Ziva's car – turkey, stuffing, potatoes, carrots, corn, sprouts, ham and bread rolls. Abby was glad turkey was kosher or she would have spent the whole night trying to figure out what else they could use in its place as the centerpiece. She was also pleased that Ducky traditionally made a large collection of Christmas desserts for his friend so they could tuck in with no effort required.

Mouth watering at the thought of all the food, she tried to focus on the present. Tony dropped his boxes with a loud bang, while Timmy took the time to place them gently on the floor. Ziva was still acting as though hers weighed nothing at all.

"We should probably wake him up, yes?" the Israeli suggested.

Tony shook his head. "Wake Gibbs? At home? He'll kill us."

"Or he will assume we are intruders and kill us anyway," his lover pointed out calmly.

The four conspirators exchanged concerned glances. "I'll go first," Abby declared. "He won't hurt me."

Tony muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _the favorite_, but she pretended not to hear anything and they traipsed up the stairs in a solemn little line. They paused outside the bedroom door for long enough to have another whispered argument about the wisdom of their actions, but Ziva rolled her eyes and shoved the door open.

They were not prepared for what they found inside.

"Jenny?" Tony questioned, while Abby started squealing and jumping up and down on the spot. McGee blushed bright red and looked at his feet, despite both Jenny and Gibbs being under the covers and clearly having been woken up in the last five seconds. Ziva was smirking; the Goth suspected she had known exactly what they would find.

Gibbs silenced them all with a glare. "Downstairs," he ordered them. "Now."

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was enjoying his unofficial present – getting to spend the day with his new family. Even if all his agents were trying to hide the fact they were breaking Rule Twelve. He'd caught Abby and McGee under the mistletoe and taken the young man aside to promise to break his legs if he hurt the Goth. Tony and Ziva had been more subtle, but every bit as obvious.

Not that he could yell at them, when they all knew he was breaking his own rule. At least it meant they didn't have to sneak around quite so much. If he let them go home early on Valentine's Day, they would not spend the next year trying to work out whether he had a date or not.

He pressed a kiss to Jenny's hair as Tony ran into the room, being chased by one very hyper Goth, before they both disappeared into the kitchen. Ziva followed at a more leisurely pace.

"How many Blue Bull has Abby had?" the Israeli asked.

"It's Red Bull and too much," Jenny replied. "Is it possible to overdose on caffeine?"

Gibbs shuddered. "Not in Abby's case."

Tony shrieked in the other room; Ziva clearly was not concerned for her partner. She settled in a nearby chair instead. "So when do we open presents?" she inquired, apparently more interested in American customs now. "Do we eat first? Tony said he was hungry enough to eat a horse, although I do not know where to find a horse in DC that would be suitable for him to eat."

Gibbs looked at Jenny with an expression which clearly read _you deal with this_. She shrugged. "I'm sure he'll settle for turkey," she mused. "I thought it was going to be ready half an hour ago?"

"Hasn't quite cooked," he assured her, desperate to keep his lover out of the kitchen. He liked his house standing and not charred, despite her best efforts to the contrary.

"Perhaps we should open the presents first then," Ziva suggested.

Tony shrieked again and came charging back.

"Are you dying?" Ziva checked.

"Not yet," Tony answered. "But I'm sure Abby will get there."

"Until then," she offered, "Keep quiet."

He opened his mouth to argue and promptly shut it when he saw her playing with her knife with a dangerous glint in her eye. "Right."

"Presents!" Abby squealed as she appeared in the room, dragging McGee behind her, having picked up on the most important word in the whole discussion.

Gibbs smiled as he surveyed his adopted family settling on the floor to exchange their gifts. He couldn't think of anywhere else he'd prefer to be.

* * *

_**Merry Christmas, My Friend**_

_**By James M. Schmidt, a Marine Lance Corporal  
stationed in Washington, D.C., in 1986**_

**Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,  
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.**

**I had come down the chimney, with presents to give  
and to see just who in this home did live**

**As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,  
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.  
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.  
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.**

**With medals and badges, awards of all kind,  
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.  
For this house was different, unlike any I'd seen.  
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.**

**I'd heard stories about them, I had to see more,  
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.  
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,  
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.**

**He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,  
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.  
Was this the hero, of whom I'd just read?  
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?**

**His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.  
I soon understood, this was more than a man.  
For I realized the families that I saw that night,  
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.**

**Soon around the Nation, the children would play,  
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.  
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,  
because of Marines like this one lying here.**

**I couldn't help wonder how many lay alone,  
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.  
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.  
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.**

**He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,  
"Santa, don't cry, this life is my choice  
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more.  
My life is my God, my country, my Corps."**

**With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,  
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.**

**I watched him for hours, so silent and still.  
I noticed he shivered from the cold night's chill.  
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,  
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.**

**Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,  
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.  
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,  
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.**

**I didn't want to leave him so quiet in the night,  
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.  
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,  
said "Carry on, Santa, it's Christmas Day, all secure."**

**One look at my watch and I knew he was right,  
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.**


End file.
